


the darkest days

by hanzios



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Cannibalism, Canon Compliant, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Episode: s05e11 The Dark Year, Established Relationship, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Gore, Missing Scene, One Shot, One Shot Collection, Showers, they're barely keeping it together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:02:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26851876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanzios/pseuds/hanzios
Summary: “I look around me and only see death. In the arena, along these walls, in my operation table. Sometimes I see them in your face.”That felt like a stab in the chest. Miller’s heart started to feel hollow at Jackson’s deep truth. He pulled away slowly, but never let go of Jackson’s touch, peering into his partner’s eyes that had lost its light a long time ago.“Please tell me you don’t mean that,” he whispered, hurt.OR: A series of oneshots  of Miller & Jackson during the bunker years (and the first few weeks after coming back to Earth)[Every chapter can be read as a stand-alone!]
Relationships: Eric Jackson/Nathan Miller
Comments: 17
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i've been posting mostly mackson fluff so here, have some delicious angst <3
> 
> i honestly wasn't planning on adding more chapters to this, but i rewatched season 5 and my sadistic ass wanted to write more of their bunker years. i also might write more about the days leading to the war at shallow valley. hope u enjoy this!! :D

It’s been 927 days since Praimfaya.

Nine hundred and twenty-seven days since they’ve been stuck in this hellhole they called the bunker.

Things were never easy; they haven’t been since day one. It was crowded and smelly and reeked of death, with no windows or any other signs of life outside the bunker’s whole six levels. Miller had started to forget what Earth felt like, smelled like, and looked like a few months into the whole ordeal. Thinking of the outside never did him any good, anyway.

If he was being honest, the only thing keeping him sane was Jackson. The unfortunate circumstances had forced their relationship to develop quickly, because after Miller lost his father, he didn’t really have anybody else. Not that Jackson was a last resort, either. He was more of the light at the end of this dark, depressing tunnel; a life-boat in the middle of the harsh, unending sea.

Miller had told Jackson he loved him less than two months into their relationship.

Jackson, like a deer in the headlights, had only kissed him. He said it back three days later.

This love was what kept him going all through these years. This love is what will eventually keep him alive three years later.

Miller’s shift ended well into the night, when the bunker was the most peaceful it could possibly be. There were still people milling around the hallways, but it wasn’t as crowded as early mornings or late afternoons. Without the sun, Miller couldn’t tell the difference anyway. He lost his sense of time ages ago.

As he began walking towards his room, he found a familiar figure standing just outside the door, leaning against the wall. Carefully, Miller approached him.

“Hey,” he said, voice low. “Why are you still up?”

Jackson never looked up, his arms wrapped around himself tightly. “I just… I can’t stop thinking of their faces.” Miller placed his hands on his boyfriend’s shoulders, thumbs resting on the nape of his exposed neck. “Everytime I close my eyes, I see them. On the arena.”

Miller sighed. He hated seeing Jackson like this. Lately, the doctor has been looking worse and worse. The bags under his eyes were getting heavier, and his body had gone thinner after working long hours and… other unfortunate conditions.

“Jax, I told you not to come,” Miller said. “I don’t like seeing you up there.”

When Jackson finally looked up, his glassy eyes were narrowed. “I _have_ to. I need to remember that–that–“

“That _what?_ ” Miller’s hands fell to his sides, a certain edge on his tone. “That our next meal used to be a real person with thoughts, feelings, and emotions?” Maybe it was his tiredness or the topic of conversation or both, that made Miller raise his voice in the middle of the almost-sleeping hallway.

“ _That I’m a terrible doctor,”_ Jackson snapped, the same intensity in his voice. It caught Miller off-guard. “I swore an oath to first, do no harm. And now? I’m cutting open and _eating_ people to stay alive.” A strain caught at the end of his sentence, sounding so painful and guttural.

Miller sighed, empathic. “We do what we do to stay alive. First, we survive. Then, we live.”

“Maybe I don’t deserve to live, Nate,” Jackson’s voice cracked as he said those words, as if he’d been thinking it for a long time and only now has it managed to crawl out of his throat.

Miller’s heart shattered hearing those words. With tears threatening to wet his eyes, Miller pulled Jackson into his chest, clinging on to him dearly. “No. Don’t say that. That’s not true.”

A pair of weak arms wrapped around his back. “I look around me and only see death. In the arena _,_ along these walls, in _my operation table_. Sometimes I see them in your face.”

That felt like a stab in the chest. Miller’s heart started to feel hollow at Jackson’s deep truth. He pulled away slowly, but never let go of Jackson’s touch, peering into his partner’s eyes that had lost its light a long time ago.

“Please tell me you don’t mean that,” he whispered, hurt.

Jackson pressed a warm hand on Miller’s cheek, the younger man leaning into the touch.

“I love you, Nate,” he said instead. After a deep breath, Jackson continued, “It’s just… everything has made it so difficult to love anything anymore, but I love _you._ And I don’t want to lose that. But sometimes I look at you, and…”

Miller implored Jackson’s eyes, the hand on the back of the doctor’s neck pulling him a little bit closer.

“…I don’t like what this war has done to you.”

“Jax, this isn’t _war,_ it’s survival.”

“And yet, we do the same things to survive.” Jackson pulled away slightly, his hand sliding on Miller’s shoulder. “We kill and kill and kill, and I hate myself because I can’t save anyone. I can’t save _you._ ”

“You _are_ saving me, Jax. You’ve been saving me ever since we closed the door on this bunker. How do you think I’m still alive?” Miller collected Jackson’s rough hands and pressed them close between their chests. “You are doing your best, and it’s more than enough. You _survive_ because you want to live another day and help more people. _That’s_ how I know you’re an amazing doctor, and an even more amazing boyfriend.”

A ghost of a smile danced across Jackson’s lips, but as soon as it appeared, the flash of happiness was gone again.

“You don’t need to carry this burden all by yourself,” Miller said over the silence.

“Neither do you,” Jackson replied.

“Which is why we got each other, right?” Miller offered a reassuring smile, hand on his lover’s hair. Finally, Jackson smiled back – genuine and sincere, like an artifact that Miller will treasure in his chest forever.

“Right.”

Finally relieved at Jackson’s softening expression, Miller leaned forward to press a long kiss on the other’s cheek, the stubble scratching slightly on his lips.

These are difficult times for even the best of them. But whatever may come along the way, Miller is comforted knowing that he got the love of his life on his side. With Jackson, he knew, that they would be able to survive.

As long as they stick together.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every once in a while, Miller noted the way the doctor handled the dead body. Jackson’s hands still held the same tenderness it had for his living patients. It gave Miller hope; he knew Jackson hadn’t lost who he was. Not yet. And Miller would never let that happen. 
> 
> OR: Who else was going to prepare the bodies for their daily protein?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [WARNING: graphic depictions of cutting up a cadaver, and mentions of cannibalism. if those topics make you squeamish, don't read this chapter.]
> 
> also, another warning: i'm not a doctor, nor am i a mortician. the details in this may not be 100% accurate bc i only got them from extensive research & knowledge from school, so i apologize for any mistakes. 😅 i tried my best to make it as precise as possible.

Days and nights had begun to blur into one continuous time period a few months after Praimfaya, and yet, years later it still drove Miller insane. There wouldn’t be a day where he’s not longing for the days of the Ark, when they at least had windows and a view of the Earth, the moon, the sun. He used to enjoy hanging out next to the large windows, sitting on the floor for hours to avoid classes and his dad’s reprimands.

Those days felt like a lifetime ago now. Sometimes they don’t even feel real.

As his monitoring shift took him to the Medical Wing, he couldn’t help but check on how Jackson was doing. He’d been gloomier lately, and rightfully so, ever since their last fight weeks ago. They’d resolved it quickly, but the doctor’s shaky voice still rang along Miller’s head from time to time.

_I don’t like what this war has done to you._

_I look around and only see death._

_Sometimes I see them in your face._

Miller pushed his intrusive thoughts away as he entered the MedBay. The medical ward wasn’t busy tonight, with only half of the beds occupied by those with sickness and injuries. To his left, he found the man who’d almost been beaten to death by a group of Grou– _Wonkru_ after a disagreement. Miller had to break them up and took a beating himself before stopping them.

When he reached the end of the ward, he rounded a corner, down the short hallway leading towards the operating room. The light had been turned on, so he welcomed himself in.

“Jax?”

The man was in his scrubs, standing alone in the middle of the room. There was a body laid out in front of him. It was already dead.

Miller noted the scalpel on Jackson’s hand.

“Where’s Abby?”

“She, uh,” Jackson doesn’t even look at him, head down. “She almost overdosed today.”

The silence in the room was deafening. Miller continued to walk forward slowly, placing a hand on Jackson’s shoulder when he reached him. Jackson’s gloved hand touched his.

“What happened?”

“I–I found her passed out on the floor,” he continued to explain between unsteady breaths. “We were supposed to extract protein today, and she took too much drugs. Her pulse was weak. I–“ Jackson turned to Miller, deep, unbridled sadness in his eyes. “I thought she was dead.”

“But she isn’t. Right?”

Jackson looked down. “I got to her just in time. She’s with Kane now.” His gaze finally fixated on the body laid out in front of him, Miller following. He swallowed, bile reaching his throat. “His name’s Ricky, he was from Azgeda. My age. He was in the arena because–“

“He stole rations,” Miller completed bitterly. “ _I know_. I arrested him. I saw him fight.”

A darkness filled Jackson’s voice when he said, “All of him for all of us.” Miller didn’t like seeing him like this.

“Look, Jax, you don’t have to do t–“

“We do what we do to stay alive,” Jackson’s head snapped to him. “That’s what you said, right?”

Miller didn’t flinch under the man’s stare. “I meant you don’t have to do this _alone._ Let me help you.”

Jackson thought about it for a second, but didn’t protest. Instead, he instructed Miller to find the gown folded at one of the cabinets, and a pair of gloves and a facemask at the desk. He did what he was told, setting his guns down on the counter. He didn’t know what he was getting into, but he knew he didn’t want Jackson to bear all this alone.

The doctor carefully readied his scalpel, the cadaver’s right leg exposed under the harsh light.

“Hold the knee and thigh so I can make a clean cut.”

Miller did as he was told. Quick and precise, Jackson lowered his blade into the surface of the skin, an inch below the thigh, and Miller was surprised at how easily the skin just parted. As the doctor continued to cut, Miller noted the lack of red blood oozing out of the body.

As if reading his thoughts, Jackson explained, “Blood clots and thickens after death. Ricky’s been dead for quite some time now, so… hypostasis has already begun and his blood has coagulated. Sometimes it oozes, though, hence, the protective equipment.”

Half of what Jackson had said didn’t make sense to Miller, but he didn’t mind. He enjoyed hearing Jackson talk about things he was passionate about. Plus, if he could keep his boyfriend talking, he might forget that they were butchering a man to eat tomorrow. Maybe.

In the middle of cutting, Jackson stopped.

“What now?” Miller asked, trying his best not to think about what he was doing.

“Bone,” Jackson replied. His eyes landed on the tray beside Miller, and the soldier quickly found the bone saw. The smell on the room was almost unbearable, even with the face mask. He didn’t know how Jackson and Abby could do this every other night.

They continued to work like that, with Jackson explaining the process and pointing out the tissues and subcutaneous fat in the body. He sawed through the femur, making a clean cut after about fifteen minutes. Miller helped with peeling off the skin, revealing the tender, leathery flesh beneath. The fumes became worse.

He noticed the coldness in Jackson’s face as he worked, slicing through the body in an almost robotic motion.

Almost.

Every once in a while, Miller noted the way the doctor handled the dead body. Jackson’s hands still held the same tenderness it had for his living patients. It gave Miller hope; he knew Jackson hadn’t lost who he was. Not yet. And Miller would _never_ let that happen.

The entire process lasted a few hours, the soldier’s rotations long-forgotten. He’ll deal with Blodreina later; this was more important.

There was a large bucket full of fresh meat on the floor. After Cooper and the other farmers were done processing them, it would feed the entire bunker for two days.

Miller took off his blue latex gloves and quickly threw them on the nearby trashcan. The smell of dead body hasn’t dwindled yet, and he bet he was going to smell like this the entire night. When he removed his facemask, he turned around and was met with Jackson’s body slamming into his.

Jackson threw his arms around him, face buried on his shoulder. Miller embraced him back, one hand on the back of his head while the other rubbed slow circles on his back.

“Thank you,” the doctor whispered. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

“I told you. You don’t have to suffer alone.”

They stood like that for what felt like forever, and Miller would’ve gladly let it continue for an entire millennium if it meant that Jackson was safe in his arms. When they finally pulled away, Miller held the other’s shoulders on his hands.

“I made a promise, Jax. _Together.”_

Jackson smiled – real and genuine. “Together.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Jackson was done washing away the blood between Miller’s fingers, he pressed the man’s knuckles to his lips, peppering his hand with tender kisses. 
> 
> OR: The one where they shower together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, they shower together, but if you're expecting smut, look away lmao. 
> 
> just the usual angst & mild gore.

They were well on their way towards Year 3 of being in the bunker, and despite all the deaths and horror Jackson had witnessed, it never made things any easier. Although they had almost phased out human-based protein completely out of their diet, people’s mental health were dwindling. Abby’s, especially.

He had been worried for her, ever since her near-death experience at the operating room. He’d tried helping her through it, through counseling and hiding her drug supply. Jackson had even prepared the proper meds for withdrawal symptoms to make her transition to recovery easier. But after one successful week of rehabilitation, she fell into the drugs again.

It hurt him seeing her like that.

That day, she was tending to patients with him. He couldn’t help but notice the slight shivers on her fingers as she worked. Jackson wished he could do more.

It was a relatively quiet morning at the MedBay when Miller burst into the room with a little girl on his arms.

“ _Help_!” Miller yelled, rushing over to an empty bed. Jackson and Abby immediately came over towards her side, noticing the gush of red blood staining the fresh sheets.

“What happened?” Abby asked, lifting the unconscious girl’s shirt as Jackson went to grab the antiseptic. There was so much blood on the girl’s abdomen, sticky and bleeding profusely.

“There was a fight in Level D,” Miller said in erratic breaths, voice tinged with distress. “I was gonna stop it but the guy pulled out a knife and I _almost_ had it but _she_ was suddenly there, and I–“ He rubbed a hand over his head. “He slashed her. I… I wasn’t fast enough.”

“Nate, it’s not your fault,” Jackson said softly, meeting Miller’s eyes before rubbing the antiseptic on the wound. He then turned his attention to Abby. “She’s bleeding too much. The knife must have damaged the intestines.”

“I can see that, Jackson,” she snapped, unrolling the fresh bandages unsteadily. 

“Lift her up,” Jackson instructed, Miller following suit. The doctor grabbed the bandages from Abby’s hands and quickly wrapped it along the girl’s torso. Abby reached for the girl’s wrist and announced her weak pulse before rushing over to perform cardiopulmonary resuscitation.

Jackson and Miller could only watch after they’d finished wrapping the girl, the bandages and their hands stained a deep red. Abby worked quick, going from pumping her chest to checking for breathing to pumping her chest again.

There are moments in a doctor’s life where you must recognize that there is no more hope for a dying patient. This type of instinct becomes more honed with experience.

Jackson knew a dead body when he saw one.

With wet eyes, he placed a hand on Abby’s shoulder. She tensed under his touch, stopping what she was doing.

“What are you doing?” Miller said, pleading eyes burning through Jackson. “Jax, _save her._ ”

Jackson opened his mouth, but Abby beat him to it. “Nathan, she can’t be saved anymore.”

Miller’s expression dropped, and he wasn’t a crier but his eyes had gone glassy, expression hardening as his gaze landed on the dead girl on the bed. He took her small hand in his before whispering, “ _Yu gonplei ste odon._ ”

Abby looked at Jackson and motioned him to go. Instantly, Jackson walked over beside Miller, squeezing his arm comfortingly. Up close, he could see the blood on his hands, on his clothes, smeared on his face and neck.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he whispered. Miller allowed himself to get dragged into the MedBay’s small shower room at the corner near the operating room.

Jackson fished out fresh clothes from his locker before the both of them entered the room.

It was small, like every other space in this bunker. There was a sink to the right where Jackson threw in the clothes, and a toilet bowl beside it, its color off-white, a stark contrast to the depressingly grey floor and walls. Miller was quiet, staring at nothing, dropping to sit down at the closed toilet seat.

Jackson knelt down in front of him, untying his shoes slowly and taking them off. After, he made his way to Miller’s armor, the blood not evident on its black and red exterior. Still, he could smell the miserable stench of blood off of it.

After years, you’d think he’d gotten used to it by now.

Miller put his arms up over his head as Jackson took off the soldier’s tattered black shirt, throwing it to the floor.

Jackson pressed a small kiss on his boyfriend’s forehead before standing up, removing his own shoes and shirt. He could feel Miller watching him, running his eyes along Jackson’s bare chest.

Once they’re both naked save for their underwear, Jackson took the soldier’s hand and led him into the shower. It wasn’t the first time they’d showered together. They’d done it countless times over the years, beginning as an adventurous sex thing and turning into something more functional and practical. With the two of them using the shower at once, it cut a little of their water usage.

This type of casual intimacy was something that Jackson treasured.

The water was cold over their skin, Miller’s muscles visibly tensing at the contact. Jackson took the bar of soap and began lathering it on Miller’s body. He started at the nape of his neck, scrubbing gently as Miller continued to look at him. Jackson’s hands trailed down his chest, watching the bubbles flow down the soldier’s toned abdomen.

It took all of the doctor’s self-control to focus back on the task at hand. He grabbed Miller’s arms, one by one lathering the soap all over his skin, the soap itself turning a shade of red before being wiped away by the water.

After Jackson was done washing away the blood between Miller’s fingers, he pressed the man’s knuckles to his lips, peppering his hand with tender kisses.

Miller exhaled.

“You did the best you could,” Jackson whispered into his hand.

“I wish it was good enough.”

Jackson turned off the shower and let go of the soap, a puddle of diluted red and bubbles sitting at their feet. “ _It was enough, Nate._ ” He peered into his partner’s hard eyes, full of regret and disappointment. Jackson pressed his clean hands on both sides of Miller’s cheeks.

“You got the girl here, you stopped the criminal,” he said, trying to get to Miller, whose eyes were still staring down at nothing. “Just… sometimes you can’t save everyone. Trust me, I know.”

Finally, Miller looked up at him, his hands on Jackson’s arms. He nodded, the movement almost too miniscule to notice.

“I love you, Jax,” he whispered.

Jackson smiled, and over the silence, he swore he could hear both their hearts beating in sync. He leaned closer and placed a gentle kiss on his lover’s soft lips.

In between breaths, Jackson said a small “ _I love you, too_ ,” into Miller’s mouth.

Warm and honest.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The warrior’s breathing seemed to even, although his eyes were starting to flutter shut, so tired over the blood loss and the pain of the injury.
> 
> Jackson, worried, placed a bloody hand on Miller’s face. “Hey. I need you to stay awake, Nate, okay? Please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so i uploaded this chapter last, but i think it would fit better in chapter 4/5. so. sorry for the confusion lol. enjoy!

It was quiet in Medical, unusually so.

All of the patients are already either fast asleep or sedated, and Abby, well, she’s at the operating room, focusing on arranging their equipment to keep her fingers from shaking. Jackson had tried to intervene, but she’d only snapped at him to get out. And so, he did, albeit hesitantly, urging Niylah to get some rest.

Their doctor-in-training had asked him if he wanted the night off, but Jackson declined.

He wanted to work, wanted to be there for Abby, in case anything bad happened. (He shoves the thought of that one awful night out of his brain.)

So, Niylah left him alone, right after gently telling him to take a break.

Jackson just nodded non-committedly.

He hasn’t slept in… god knows how long.

He sank into one of the chairs near a patient, head buried in his hands. There is a persistent throbbing in his temples, making him feel a little disoriented. But Jackson just tried to shake them off; it wasn’t as if he wasn’t used to this, anyway. He almost managed to doze off when a loud noise emerged from the door.

“ _Help! He’s bleeding!”_

Jackson shot up from his seat reflexively, blinking his blurry eyes before focusing on the Wonkru guard carrying an achingly familiar body in his arms.

_Nate._

All tiredness seemed to have been lost as he rushed towards Miller’s side, the guard – whom he recognized as Kalix – setting him down on an empty bed. Jackson’s heart dropped to his chest as Miller’s face contorted in pain, holding his side.

“Jax?” he weakly whimpered, gritting his teeth.

“Hey, baby,” Jackson managed to let out, placing a trembling hand on Miller’s face. “I’m here. Stay with me, okay?”

“Gotcha,” he joked. _This is a good sign, he’s going to be okay._

Jackson didn’t even notice Abby exit the O.R., coming into Miller’s rescue. Together, they helped the warrior get out of his armor, revealing the bloody mess underneath. Jackson held his breath as he ripped off Miller’s tattered shirt to reveal a painful slice going from his abdomen to his left torso.

Jackson stopped in his tracks, staring at the blood oozing out of his partner’s body. He can feel himself sinking, his brain going on dangerous territory.

There’s so much blood – _too much blood._

But in between his frozen terror, he could feel a hand clasping itself into his. Jackson looked at Miller, who was smirking at him through the pain. Miller gave his hand a tight squeeze, as tight as he could muster with his weakened strength.

Instantly, Jackson was back in work mode. Quickly, he inserted a needle into Miller’s inner elbow, connecting him to a blood bag. After, he assessed the wound as Abby rushed to get an antiseptic, Kalix pressing into Miller’s side to slow down the bleeding. His breathing quickened as he realized how deep the wound was, tearing through body tissue. Fortunately, though, it didn’t seem to hit any vital organs.

Jackson tried not to think about Miller’s deep crimson blood creeping under his fingernails, onto the white sheets, and _everywhere else_ as he applied the antibiotic on the gash.

His boyfriend winced out in pain, grabbing the sheets.

Jackson’s chest ached, seeing him like this.

But he couldn’t fail him now. He had to be strong for the both of them.

“The wound is too deep,” Abby said, right on the other side of the bed, as if reading Jackson’s thoughts. “I’m going to have to stitch him up.”

“I–I’ll get the anesthesia,” the doctor shakily replied, his wobbly feet flying to the operating room. He scrambled through the cabinets, trying his best to keep himself collected as he looked for the medicine. When he came back, he immediately injected the local anesthesia into Miller’s side.

The warrior’s breathing seemed to even, although his eyes were starting to flutter shut, so tired over the blood loss and the pain of the injury.

Jackson, worried, placed a bloody hand on Miller’s face. “Hey. I need you to stay awake, Nate, okay? _Please._ ”

Miller could only look at him through half-lidded eyes. Jackson moved to grab his hand, squeezing it tightly as he continued to stroke Miller’s face.

Abby worked methodically on the stitches, and Jackson could offer nothing but the most comfort he could give to his partner. He pressed their foreheads together, never letting go of Miller. He was desperate to feel him as close as he could, making sure he was still breathing out of his nose. The other man just looked at him intently as Jackson whispered small assurances, which was, admittedly, mostly for himself.

“Done.”

Jackson looked up at Abby as she finished. The intense worry must have been evident on his face, as she gave him a comforting smile. “He’s okay, Jackson. He’s _alive_. Let me wrap him up, and he’ll be good as new.”

He could only nod solemnly, finally detaching himself from Miller’s grip so he could help Abby wrap the bandage around his abdomen. In between the work, he checked Miller’s face and found him finally lulled to sleep, peaceful.

Alive.

He didn’t know how long he was just standing there, staring at his face, relief washing over his own chest.

“I can check up on him while you rest,” Abby offered from beside him, a warm hand on his shoulder. Jackson didn’t look at her. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of Miller, afraid that he would disappear if Jackson peeled his eyes away from him for one second.

“No, I–“ his words came out more guttural than he’d hoped. He cleared his throat. “I want to be here when he wakes up.”

“Eric, you haven’t slept in 36 hours.”

Finally, with all his strength, he managed to look at Abby, his eyes glassy with tears begging to fall. “He almost died, Abby.”

Slowly, she collected his face into her hands, attempting a comforting smile. “But he didn’t _._ Thanks to you.” Jackson forced himself to look at her, his vision blurry. “Nathan is a fighter. And believe it or not, you are, too.”

He couldn’t control the snort that escaped his mouth.

“You fight different, that may be true,” she said. “But that doesn’t mean you’re not strong.”

“But I _froze_. He was in pain, and I just _stood there._ ”

“An acceptable reaction. You pulled through in the end; that’s what matters.”

Jackson let himself believe what she was saying, giving her a small nod.

“You better go,” he said, Abby’s hands falling back to her sides. “I’m not leaving him.”

She only nodded, understanding. Abby gave him a smile before walking out of the door, leaving him alone with his thoughts. Jackson found a chair and moved it beside Miller, settling down on his side. Eventually, due to exhaustion and the trauma of almost losing the love of his life, he fell asleep, his head on the hospital bed, just beside Miller.

+

When he came back to consciousness, he noticed a weight on the side of his head.

Slowly, Jackson looked up to find Miller stroking his temples, moving down to his stubbled cheek. He’s awake. He’s smiling.

Jackson placed his hand atop Miller’s. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Miller managed to say before letting out an awful cough.

Jackson immediately rose from his seat, grabbing the small glass of water from the nearby table, the one he prepared once Miller woke up. He tilted the glass slowly into Miller’s mouth, lifting the other’s head slightly as to not spill.

When he finished, Jackson put the water back on the table.

“Sorry I scared you,” Miller said softly, looking up at Jackson.

Jackson could only offer a tight smile, but he couldn’t fully commit to it. The night had been so dreadful, and he can’t pretend it didn’t shake him. “I thought you were gonna die.”

Saying those words out loud to Miller had been the last straw. He could feel small tears rolling down his cheeks, tired and worried and afraid. Miller lifted his free hand to gently stroke the tears out of Jackson’s face. He pulled him down so they were closer, their faces inches apart.

“Damn it,” Jackson blurted out, trying to wipe away his tears. “You’re the one injured, and I’m the one crying.”

“Honestly, I’d have been offended if you didn’t cry,” Miller teased, lightening the tension. That earned a chuckle from Jackson, his mood instantly brightening at his partner’s usual sarcasm.

“ _God, I love you.”_

With those words, Miller’s eyes seemed to soften. Wordlessly, he pulled Jackson’s face even closer, capturing his lips in a warm kiss.

With the soldier’s warmth pressed against him, the doctor is reminded that _Nathan Miller is here and he’s alive,_ and that’s all that mattered to him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miller shot up from his seat, the space between them closing. “Jax, we have to fight. Take back what’s ours. It’s what Blodreina would have wanted.” The corner of Jackson’s eyes momentarily landed on their comatose leader on the bed. “Why can’t you see that?”
> 
> “Nate, I am tired of fighting.” Jackson snapped, letting his frustration boil over to the surface. Miller looked taken aback at the outburst. “I am tired of having people die in my arms because they went to a war and barely made it back alive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so this chapter used to be 4/5 before i posted the previous chapter. and since it made more sense to have _this_ chapter be the last, i rearranged the order. so read chapter 4 if you haven't yet! (anyway, it's still a one-shot collection that can be read in whatever order; i was just being picky and decided to change it lol. sorry.)
> 
> anyway...
> 
> hella angsty, but with a happy ending. this is the longest one-shot i've written, so far. i hope you like it!!

In the bunker, there were only bad days and worse days.

When they reached the ground, you’d think conditions would change.

But no. Somehow things have continued to rotten.

Jackson knew there was always a war to win, people to kill in order to survive, and he hated himself for allowing it to happen. There were way too many things he did in the bunker that he could never forgive himself for. Even if they were all in the name of survival.

It had been a week or so when Blodreina fell ill.

Her situation totally stumped him. Jackson did everything he could to stabilize her condition, but after racking his brain, he could not find the cause. At least, not anything probable. He’d ruled out poisoning early on in his diagnosis; it didn’t explain why Bellamy was still fine.

He’d been in the bedroom monitoring Octavia’s recovery when someone walked inside, slamming the door behind them.

He didn’t have to look up from the monitor to know who it was.

“What happened?”

Miller ran a frustrated hand over his face. “How is she?”

“Stable,” Jackson replied, turning to his body to Miller. “What _happened?”_

“Indra wanted us to surrender, that’s what,” the soldier spat.

“Huh? Why?”

Jackson’s eyes followed Miller as he moved to sit on the edge of the king-sized bed. “She wanted to negotiate with the _enemy,_ to _give up_ and go to the valley and hold hands with those criminals who tried to nuke us.”

The doctor took a step closer. “What did you say?”

Miller looked up at him. “What do you think?”

There was a beat of silence when Jackson said, “Maybe she’s right.”

Miller couldn’t have snapped his head up to him any faster than he did. “ _Wait._ You’re siding with _Indra?”_

“If we – _all of us_ – could go up that valley without having to fight another war…” Jackson explained, unflinching as Miller stared at him. “I’d say that’s a good plan.”

Miller shot up from his seat, the space between them closing. “Jax, we _have_ to fight. Take back what’s ours. It’s what Blodreina would have wanted.” The corner of Jackson’s eyes momentarily landed on their comatose leader on the bed. “Why can’t you see that?”

“Nate, I am _tired of fighting._ ” Jackson snapped, letting his frustration boil over to the surface. Miller looked taken aback at the outburst. “I am tired of having people die in my arms because they went to a war and barely made it back alive.”

Miller was quiet. Unusually so. Jackson noted the man clench his jaw, unable to say a word. He continued, “We _survived_. We survived six awful years, and – what? – we’re just going to march into another battle?”

“This will be the last.”

“We say that every time.”

“ _Jax_.”

“Look, I know I can’t change your mind on this, Nate. And I know that _you_ simply won’t,” Jackson said, crossing his arms, a certain coldness in his voice. “What’s a soldier without a war to fight, right?” He’d tried not to say those words, he really, _really_ did, but Jackson was exhausted and upset and angry at everything else that he couldn’t do anything but take it out on the man he loved.

“ _That’s not fair_.” Miller’s voice was low, yet stern. “I’m not doing this just because I have orders, Jax, nor am I doing this to fulfill my need to fight, as you just implied. I’m doing this because it’s what needs to be done. To save _everyone_ , you included.”

“Even if there’s another way?”

“ _There is no other way_!”

“Nate, I do _not_ want you to be the next bleeding body to _die on me_!”

Right after Jackson’s outburst, Brell entered the room. She stopped at the door, sensing the tension between the two men. Miller looked at her, then at Jackson, clearly debating whether to stay, or leave this fight unresolved. Jackson swallowed, setting his jaw.

Miller gave him one last look before shaking his head and walking away, Brell just behind him.

Jackson released a long, deep breath he didn’t know he was holding, grabbing at one of the poles on the corner of the bed for support. They’ve all changed over the past six year, and Miller wasn’t an exception. Jackson didn’t want the love of his life to die in battle, nor did he want him to go down the dark path of death and destruction.

Momentarily, the doctor wondered if it was already too late. And it surprised him knowing that if this _was_ who Miller had become – who they _both_ have become – he would still love him nevertheless.

That was the only thing that could never change.

Jackson took a few deep breaths and wiped at his eyes before continuing with his work to try to get his mind off of things. There was no use on falling apart now, not when Wonkru needed him the most. He walked slowly to check on the dialysis machine when the results he saw instantly increased his mood, briefly making him forget about his and Miller’s argument just a few moments ago.

Like on cue, Indra came in, a guard in tow.

“You’re right on time,” Jackson said, sauntering over to Octavia’s other side. “I was just about to call for you.” Gently, he shook her shoulder, plastering a small smile. “Hey. Octavia. Hey.”

Slowly, the young woman’s eyes started to flutter open, making the doctor sigh in relief. “Thank God. You had us all so worried.”

In her groggy state, she opened her mouth, her voice gravelly and deep. “Indra…”

Jackson touched her arm once more before allowing her teacher to talk to her. He went over to his work station to finally pack up the equipment and medicine he didn’t use, when, faintly, he heard Octavia say the words he didn’t expect to come out of her mouth.

“My brother… poisoned me.”

The doctor turned around in surprise, disbelief clouding his face. He didn’t know what could have possessed Bellamy to poison and almost kill his own sister. Bitterly, he thought, _guess the past 6 years didn’t only change those inside the bunker._

Jackson spoke, an uneasy feeling on his gut. “Indra… you need to arrest Bellamy.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

In a split second, Indra had unsheathed her knife and threw it across the room, whizzing past Jackson’s face and hitting the guard square in the head. Fearful he was next, Jackson scrambled to the table to grab a tranquilizer. But he wasn’t quick enough.

Indra blocked him, taking the stick from his hand and jamming it into his neck.

The fading to black was swift. Jackson didn’t even feel himself fall on the floor with a thud.

+

As Miller was talking strategy half-heartedly with Brell, he couldn’t help but let his mind wander back on his and Jackson’s fight. It was as cutting as it had been, the both of them taking punches. He hated when they fought, hated seeing Jackson so upset. It was unlike the doctor’s nature to raise his voice, but tonight had been the worst.

He ended their small meeting briefly, fully intending to go back to the room and solve his relationship. Miller was on his way there when he was greeted by Clarke, Indra, and, surprisingly, Octavia – breathing and walking and _alive_.

“Octavia,” he breathed out in surprise. “You’re okay.”

She only stared at him, giving the man a small nod. “I need you to come with me.”

Miller looked behind them, past the two other guards next to Indra, and out in the extended hallway. “Where’s Jackson?”

Octavia said, “Ask Indra.”

It was then when he noticed the binds on Indra’s wrist. Miller could feel his heart beating out of his chest. He didn’t have time to lash out on them, choosing instead to push away the two guards and sprinting across the hallway, already forgetting Octavia’s orders.

_This was more important._

When he reached the door, he looked inside the room.

There Jackson was – a mass on the floor, unconscious.

Miller wasted no time in rushing to a kneeling position on his partner’s side, cupping Jackson’s unresponsive face. “Jax. Jax, wake up.” Miller felt his throat constrict as he shook the love of his life. His other hand fell on the other’s chest, feeling his slow heartbeat over the fabric of his shirt. “Come on. Don’t do this to me. _Wake up_.”

“Jackson, _please_.”

Little by little, Jackson started shifting, his facial features beginning to move. Miller’s face burst into a relieved grin at the sight of Jackson, alive.

The doctor’s eyes began to flutter open, squinting a little at the light. “N–Nate?”

Miller immediately took Jackson’s body into his arms, giving him the warmest embrace – one that indicated life or death. He buried himself into Jackson’s neck, holding him gingerly close to him. “I was so scared. I thought you’d–“

He couldn’t even finish what he was saying.

When he pulled away, he took Jackson’s face in his hands. “I came to apologize. And to say I never want us to fight again.”

“Impossible. You’re too stubborn,” Jackson joked. Miller gave him a quick peck on the lips, chest bursting in happiness. The doctor’s expression had gone somber. “I’m sorry I said those things, Nate. I just wanted to–“

“Protect me. I know,” Miller said. “I get why you said them. You’re a healer, not a fighter.”

Jackson smiled softly, the both of them lost in the memory of the first time Miller had said those three words.

“I don’t like the plan. I don’t like it one bit,” Jackson said, honest. “But if it means _peace_ ; if it means you’ll still be coming back to me, I’m on your side. I always am.”

Miller leaned forward to touch his forehead on the other’s, both their hands on each other’s faces, their fight not forgotten but took to heart, a reminder of their personal principles, and how in the end, they will still keep choosing each other nevertheless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading this lil bunker boyfriends collection! <3

**Author's Note:**

> talk to me on tumblr! hanisaway.tumblr.com


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